


When You Get a Migraine, It Gives Me a Headache

by professorandre1228



Category: Supernatural, The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: A glimpse of Lawyer Sam, Azazel's Kids, Extraordinary senses, Hurt Sam Winchester, Sentinel abilities, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:28:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26132695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorandre1228/pseuds/professorandre1228
Summary: Sam has a vision that leads them to Cascade, Washington.  More specifically, to the Cascade Police Department.  Against Dean's gut feelings, they go.  Neither of them planned on coming across someone who could smell the arsenal and old blood in Baby, someone who they'd have to put their trust into.  Jim, along with his roommate/friend, Blair, must find out why he knows there's way more going on that these brothers are saying.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jim Ellison & Blair Sandburg
Comments: 14
Kudos: 53





	1. Cascade? Really?

“Hey, College boy, got your grilled chicken salad,” Dean called out as he pulled the motel room door closed behind him. There was no response, but as the bathroom door was closed, Sam was probably still in the shower. The green-eyed hunter smirked to himself as the memory of the muddy and slimy thing that had climbed back up the edge of the ravine had glared at him with his brother’s hazel eyes. Sam hadn’t blamed him for the tumble he’d taken when the vengeful spirit had knocked him over the edge and into the rain-flooded creekbed, but Dean’s snickering at his being coated from head to toe with the slimy silt and mud had pinged off the tall man’s increasing irritation.

Sam, the same long-haired, college-educated guy who always claimed to love nature, had grumbled and grumped that the rain had ended too soon, leaving him to have to wait until the motel to get cleaned up. When Dean had admonished him with a stern finger that he wasn’t getting into Baby like that, he’d stuttered, then shut up. He’d simply glared at Dean, stripped down to his soaked boxer briefs, wiping what mud he could from his face, hands and hair on the fairly mud-free undershirt, then plopped into the passenger seat, and said not another word all the way back. Dean had of course, felt sorry for his brother, but to see him pouting like a five year old, arms crossed, bottom lip stuck out, he couldn’t help but mock and tease the giant baby that had replaced his brother. 

As the older brother, his birthright was to torment his younger sibling, but as a ‘good’ older brother, he let Sam have the shower first once they got back. There had been one raised eyebrow when they’d gotten to the room as the taller man had stomped out of the car in nothing but his wet underwear and into the room, but Dean wondered if Sam had even seen the smiling appraisal the woman had given his brother as she froze in amusement before continuing on her way to the lobby from her room next door. It had been a good while since Jessica’s death and while Sam had had a few interests along the way, none of them had ended well, so it was possible he was avoiding anything remotely resembling a relationship for now. Or, he could just be really, really pissed.

Once inside, Sam had continued to stomp his way to the bathroom, almost slamming the door, still not saying a word. Dean had sniggered to himself a little before yelling to let him know he was heading out for food and beer. Getting no response, he’d gone back out, determined to let his little brother cool off a bit.

Now, a half hour later, apparently Sam was still in the bathroom. Maybe the mud had gotten into places it wasn’t supposed to be and he was having trouble getting it all out. 

“Sammy,” he yelled as he tapped on the bathroom door, leaning against the door frame with a grin. “Quit pouting and come eat.” If he had been across the room at that moment, he would have missed it, but being right outside the door he heard the pained groan. He knew the sounds his brother made during ‘happy time alone’ and ‘damn, that hurts’ and all of them in between, and these current sounds were more of the latter kind. He threw the door open to find Sam curled into the bottom of the tub, holding his head, a dribble of blood smeared under the edge of his hand.

“Dean?” The young man struggled to turn and sit up in the tub, the spray of water from the shower obviously now freezing cold and still pounding down on his lanky frame. Dean was beside him instantly, turning off the freezing water and pulling Sam up gently.

“Damn it, Sam,” he muttered. He reached up to gently pull Sam’s hand from the wound to take a look. A quick appraisal told him he’d just hit it on the side of the tub when he’d fallen and it wasn’t too bad. Probably knocked himself out for a few. Thank goodness he was so tall that his head never would have gone far enough down for him to drown. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you out of there and warmed up.”

Sam’s eyes rolled for a moment as they focused on his older brother, before he gripped Dean’s bicep. 

“Dean, we gotta go. Cascade…something. Big explosion.” Sam struggled to his feet with his brother’s help, leaning on him as he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around the wet body. Dean sighed. He’d hoped it’d only been a slip in the tub, but nope. A vision.

“Let’s get you dressed first and let me check out your head.” When Sam began to argue with him, Dean tutted and pushed him gently to sit on the end of the bed furthest from the door, which happened to be closest to the bathroom. “First off, cascade and explosion doesn’t get us anywhere. Second, you’re naked. And while I’m sure that busty brunette next door who was checking you out earlier wouldn’t mind seeing that, there will be at least a layer of fabric between you and the seat in my car, preferably clothes.” He grabbed a second towel and began drying Sam’s face and head to better assess the damage. When Sam huffed at him, then pulled away to look at him in confusion, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Checking me out? Dean, what…nevermind,” Sam scowled, with a slight shake of his head. Dean grabbed his chin, making him be still as he dabbed an alcohol pad around the small cut. It was going to bruise and had a little swelling, but it was very minor and really didn’t even need a bandage. Without the water running over it constantly, the bleeding was already stopping. “There was a police station and one of the cops, I think someone called him Joel, was talking to another detective about gunpowder, I think. Then there was like a boom and an explosion, but not like a bomb. There were no pyrotechnics, but it was like a kid kicking a sandcastle and seeing it from inside of the sandcastle, but no foot.”

“Uh, huh,” Dean said patiently as he handed his brother clean, dry clothes before moving around to pack all their stuff up. Looked like they were going to be back on the road very shortly. “So where does ‘cascade’ come into it?” Sam stood to pull up and fasten his jeans, tossing his wet hair out of his eyes, and he looked around without seeing outside the memory. 

“There was a glass door that had, uh, Cascade Police Department.” He pulled a fresh t-shirt over his head while stepping into his boots, anxious to get moving. “And one of the cops was talking about the ‘Jaguars’ basketball game. Give me five to look up the connection and we will have a destination.” He was already shouldering into his flannel button up when Dean paused, giving him a fond but distressed look, one Sam completely missed as he settled in front of his laptop to search the internet. 

The older brother sighed, still a little irked at Sam’s ‘shining’ that seemed to come at the worst times. He had been looking forward to a little down time with his brother since their dad had passed, but the cases had kept coming. This last one had been the low hanging fruit, the least urgent of the list they had scrounged up, but it wasn’t going to give them the break they wanted. 

Within ten minutes, Dean had them all loaded up and Sam had the destination planned out. Cascade, Washington. They were going to save a bunch of cops from another one of the kids Sam had his connection with. 

*****

“Come on, man. It’s not like she’s going to stay overnight.” 

Jim scowled as he glanced over at the shorter man buckled into the passenger seat of his truck. Blair’s mom was planning to visit and while he didn’t really dislike the woman, she was even more hippie than Sandburg and her patchouli aroma really played havoc with his sense of smell. She had agreed to cut out the burning of sage when they’d convinced her Jim was mildly allergic but she still refused to give up the patchouli oil, only tone it down. Thankfully, it wasn’t as abrasive. 

He pulled up to the red traffic light and sighed. 

“Sandburg, it’s not that I don’t like Naomi, but she gets up my nose. Literally.” He spared a short glare over to the curly-headed man, who only grinned wider, open-mouthed. 

“Hah, Jim makes a joke!” Blair chuckled, slapping the door in his humor. “But seriously, you know she’ll just worry more if we tell her no, especially since it’s just a tiny, short, teensy visit. Maybe an hour…or three.” When Jim glanced over again and saw that Blair had turned those bright blue eyes up at him with a hopeful smile, turning on the fully puppy look, he felt his resolve fleeing and rolled his eyes. “See! I knew you’d agree. I’ll call her back tonight and we’ll have her over for dinner tomorrow night. Thanks man.” 

Jim smiled briefly, wondering again why he’d given in to his friend as easily as he did. The light changed to green, prompting them forward as Blair launched into some rambling diatribe about some rare Mayan artifact that had gotten broken at the university yesterday by a clumsy student. With an internal only, very put-upon sigh, Jim dialed his hearing back a little, enjoying tuning out the rant he knew his guide would be on for the rest of their drive into the precinct. Sandburg would not even notice his lack of input if he grunted or hummed in the lulls. 

With his hearing dialed down, he scanned the traffic ahead of him for openings, trying to make the trip shorter if he could. There was really no hope today as there was some sort of convention going on and the streets were really busy. He did, however, catch sight of a beautiful, classic Chevy Impala. Black with chrome trim. The car looked to be in very good condition, well loved. A quick scan of the heads on view showed two men, one with a shorter military style cut, the other with long, wavy hair. The second head could almost appear feminine at first glance, but Jim’s enhanced sight picked up the broad shoulders and how the head nearly touched the roof of the car. Definitely male then, he idly noted. 

They continued down the street, the Impala staying a few cars ahead of them, going the same direction. Jim dialed his hearing back up, just to see if he could catch the sound of the Chevy’s engine, smiling when that purring rumble could be picked out among the other street sounds. As he realized that his dialed back up hearing gave him full access to Sandburg’s continued rant about preservation of knowledge via artifacts, he took a deep breath, feeling the deep sigh that was bound to escape soon. It was that breath that had him instantly alert.

There was a lot of gunpowder somewhere nearby. There were the typical scents of asphalt, exhaust, body odor, etc, but close at hand was some serious firepower. They were really close to the precinct and memories of the siege during Sandburg’s first stint as a police consultant, still left him wary. And really, who the hell needed that kind of firepower in the city besides the police?


	2. Not the Best First Impression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean reach their destination, but the timing and the presence of Jim and his senses, make for conflict. And Blair is awestruck.

Blair must have noticed the concentration on his face because suddenly there was a hand on his arm. The truck swerved a little as he jolted. 

“Jim, what’s going on? You just ran a red light.” Blair was looking around to see what had triggered Jim’s focus while he was driving but without the sentinel’s enhanced senses, there was nothing for him to notice. Jim grunted, focusing in on the smell of gunpowder. He had narrowed it down to the traffic directly ahead of him and was prepared to follow it past the precinct. When he noticed the classic Chevy pull into one of the open, metered parking spots very near the building that housed the precinct, he turned quickly into the precinct underground parking garage. He flashed his badge that let him in and as he parked. 

“Jim!”

Blair only had time to yell once before the detective was out of the truck and running towards the street, other cops watching him curiously. Blair followed him with a jog, long curls flopping around his neck. He stopped, breathing hard as he came around the corner onto the sidewalk, where Jim was stopped, taking deep breaths in, eyes focused on the black and chrome car, focusing his hearing on the conversation the two men were having before getting out. 

“Come on, Dean. You can’t just kill whoever it is,” was the first snippet he caught when he stopped on the sidewalk. Jim took a step forward, Blair looking around frantically. 

“I can if he makes me,” a deeper voice replied. There was a pause and a low growl. “If what you say is true, there may be no other choice, Sam. A quick bullet to the brain is better than all that guilt, if he even feels guilt.” 

Jim took another few steps forward and everything zoomed into the car and the two men. Shockingly, the smell of gunpowder, along with some other weirdly strong smells, like salt and herbs, was coming from the trunk. 

The driver began to open his door, then paused, turning back to the passenger, mouth working as he spoke. “Max left us no choice. Neither did Ansem. Whoever this is may not be like you and Andy and I’m still not 100% about Andy.” So, the deeper voice was the driver.

Jim pulled the snap open on the holster of his service revolver, keeping his hand on the butt. He headed towards the Impala, not taking his eyes off the men, but he did pause long enough to hand off his phone to Sandburg. 

“Call Simon and tell him to get Rafe and Taggert down here, asap.” Blair froze, glancing at the black car, where both men were now climbing out. The lighter brown-haired man who stepped from the driver seat looked irritated as he came around the car to the trunk. He was a little shorter than Jim’s 6’2” but well-muscled and looked like he could be dangerous in a fight. The man might have been mid to late 20’s, but that would only give him the advantage of speed. The longer haired man who slid out of the passenger seat, barely out of his teens, was easily several inches taller than Jim, but he was thinner, lankier. And while the one man was taller, he appeared hesitant and nervous. But Blair had learned long ago to not jump to conclusions based on looks alone. 

Blair hurriedly stepped back around the corner and speed dialed Simon, giving him the urgent request from Jim, then hung up and watched with baited breath as Jim casually walked towards them. 

“Dean, he may not even be here yet,” the younger one said, a slight groan to his voice. The older one shook his head and then leaned on the trunk.

“Maybe not, but then maybe we can get to him before he gets in there with all the cops.” The taller man, younger by a few years than his companion, glanced up at the building, then around, spotting the daycare in the next building over. Jim saw his face pale as he turned to speak to the older one again. But then both men caught sight of Jim headed directly for them. Jim’s hand was still on his gun, and they both noticed his badge on his belt. He could tell they were evaluating him as they both tensed and became instantly defensive.

“Can we help you officer?” the older one said, risking a sharp glance over at the younger one. Jim caught the look from the younger one that seemed to ask him to tone it down. Obviously, the older was the more confident of the two, maybe the one in control, so he knew who to focus on. 

“Do you mind opening your trunk?” Jim said, finally stopping a few feet from the rear of the car and the short-haired man, making sure to keep both men in his eyeline and out of physical reach. When the older one physically bristled before sliding a charming smile onto his face, Jim felt a shiver of something, knowing that this man was dangerous. The younger was glancing quickly between the older one and Jim. 

“Listen, officer-,” he started, but Jim cut him off.

“Detective Ellison.” Interrupting usually threw off most people, giving Jim an advantage, but neither man appeared to be anything more than irked.

“Detective Ellison, listen, we were just stopping to stretch our legs.” If Jim hadn’t heard the conversation with his sentinel hearing, he’d have fallen for the earnestness on the man’s face, but he wasn’t going for it.

“Please, open the trunk,” he stated again, rising to his full height over the closest man. The taller one actually ducked his head and hunched over a little, as if to appear smaller. The older one, though, crossed his arms and refused to back down. 

“Don’t you need like reasonable cause or something?” There was a smirk under that hard stare of defiance. 

“Dean,” came a soft warning. The green-eyed man, the older of the two, glanced over to the taller of them and gave a short shake of his head. Anyone else would have dismissed it as twitch, but Jim had seen seasoned veterans who could communicate with the smallest gestures, as apparently could these two. They were both too young to have seen military combat. Jim scanned both of them and noted possible weapons on the older of the two. 

He heard footsteps behind him and caught the whiff of Rafe’s horrible cologne, letting him know his backup had arrived. 

“I won’t ask again. Open the trunk, son,” Jim growled, pulling his gun from the holster. That really made the smirk drop from the older man’s face as it went very dark. 

“I ain’t your son.” He dropped his arms and took a step towards the officer. The younger swallowed and stepped forward to intervene.

“Wait-,” he said, hands held up in supplication. But Jim saw the older one’s hand twitch and he brought his gun to bear. 

“Hands up and in front where I can see them,” he stated, seeing Rafe and the new guy, Turner, or something, move forward, both with weapons out. The tough guy rolled his eyes but lifted his hands slowly. The younger already had his hands up so just froze in place. Jim stepped into tough guy, grabbing a wrist, then spinning him to push him chest down on the trunk. 

“Watch the paint!” He yelled but he didn’t resist the arrest. Jim easily had him cuffed before he began to pat him down, pulling all the weapons and laying them on the trunk out of his reach. He left the younger one to Rafe and Turner, only glancing over to see they had him with his chest against the side of the car with his hands cuffed behind him. “Glad we came now, Sammy?” the older one grumbled. He turned his head to look at his partner. 

When the younger man shook his head sadly and then tilted it behind him, the other glanced over, the look on his face surprised as he caught sight of the daycare. After that, all aggression left the man. Jim glanced over at the daycare and realized the attitude change had been because there was a daycare was so close to the precinct. Before the siege, Jim would have said it was the safest place to put it, but he saw it in a different light now. Being so close meant that it was now in the line of fire if anything happened. And if the daycare was what deterred violence, he’d take it right now. 

Within a few minutes, they had the two suspects handcuffed, weapons removed, and were heading upstairs to interview them. Turner had taken charge of the Impala, driving it past them into the gated garage to where Taggert and his team were waiting to go over it. As Taggert was head of the bomb squad, he suspected he knew what was possibly in the trunk of the car, so he only nodded at Jim as they passed, and eyed the two detainees. 

As Jim, leading the shorter man, Dean, came around the corner, Blair bounced out from where he’d been hidden. The prisoner glanced over at him with one raised eyebrow.

“Oh, man, Jim,” the anthropologist blew out in excitement. “That was…amazing! We really gotta talk more later so you can tell me what tipped you off.” He was nearly vibrating moving around the group, trying to take it all in. Dean glanced over his shoulder at ‘Jim’ and saw that he looked irritated, something completely lost on the short, curly-haired dude. The tall cop that was leading Sam had an amused smile as his eyes glanced over Blair and back to the prisoners.

“Sandburg,” was all Jim replied. It was enough that the shorter man dropped back, although the bright look in his eyes never dimmed. Dean would have laughed out loud at his childlike manner if his brother hadn’t groaned his name just then.


	3. Sight and Seizure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy has a vision, Baby is seized, and the alpha battle between Dean and Jim is only beginning.

“Dean.” The single word was a groan of pain and attention-getting, definitely causing all four of their heads to swivel in that direction. Sam’s face was pinched, eyes clenched closed, as he stumbled. Rafe grunted as Sam shuddered, then dropped like he had been shot. The detective’s reflexes barely kept him from falling face first into the sidewalk pavement. As it was, he managed to help him lay on his side with a grunt as his eyes screwed tightly shut.

“Sammy!” Dean shouted, trying to jerk away from the burly cop. When Jim kept him in place, but did turn to see what was going on, Dean struggled more. “He, uh, gets bad migraines, man. They knock him on his ass like lightning.” 

“Oh, God, no,” Sam whimpered as he bent in half, then gasped and whipped his head up, looking around like he was seeing something no one else could. “No.” 

Rafe appeared skeptical that it was all an act. Blair was utterly fascinated and moved closer to the suffering man, but didn’t reach out when he saw Rafe glare and shake his head at him. Jim, however, could hear Sam’s racing heart and panicked breaths, and although he was still skeptical of what exactly was causing it, he knew it wasn’t an act. 

“Does he have a prescription he takes for them?” Blair asked Dean, causing him to stop struggling and focus on him for a moment. 

“What? No, they come on too fast, dude,” Dean explained with a one-shoulder shrug. “Meds don’t do shit for him until afterwards when it’s just a headache again.” 

Sam groaned again, then shuddered and went still, gasping breaths. Rafe kept one hand on his arm as he crouched down over the man. 

“Sam, Sammy!” Dean shouted again as Sam groaned again, blinking. He turned his head so that the sunlight was behind him. “You okay, man?” This time the tall man blinked as he tried to sit up with the officer’s gentle pulling. He looked blearily around for Dean, as though he were confused as to where they were. Rafe eased him back until he was leaning against the nearest wall, his legs bent up, hands still cuffed behind his back, head leaned back with a grimace, eyes blinking slowly. 

“Yeah,” came the nearly whispered response. “Jus’ not happy a…about the timing.”

“Damn it!” Dean grumbled. Once Sam began to move to continue to his feet, Rafe helped him, balancing him where he wavered a little before steadying himself with a nod of thanks to the detective. 

“I’m not sure,” Jim started, waiting as Rafe and Sam stumbled past them going into the underground garage. “But that looked more like a seizure than a headache.” He caught the side-eyed look that his prisoner gave him before turning Dean and directing him to continue and follow the others into the police station. 

“Jim, should we get an ambulance to come check him out?” This came from Blair, who turned concerned eyes onto Rafe and Sam. When Sam stiffened and stumbled again, Dean was quick to respond.

“Nah, he’s okay. You’re okay, right, Sammy?” He called ahead. The taller man swallowed then nodded, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Yeah, ‘m fine. ‘m okay. But wouldn’t say no to some ibuprofen.” Jim caught the glance between the two men, one apologetic but urgent, the other concerned, but forceful. He wasn’t sure what the message was between them, but he had no doubt there was much more to it than what they were admitting to.

It was silent on the elevator ride up to Vice, where Jim and Rafe worked, Blair trailing behind them with his ‘consultant’ badge attached to his vest. Simon met them at the elevators and was instantly looking Sam and Dean up and down before the doors were fully opened. The police captain stepped back, directing them to a room down the hall, watching the entourage with interest.

“Jim?” He finally asked once both men had been placed in the interview room. While Rafe handcuffed Sam to the metal desk on one side, Jim handcuffed Dean to the other, catty-cornered so they couldn’t reach but could see each other. Blair waited behind Simon, peering around his shoulder.

“Rafe, keep an eye on them for a minute, will ya?” Jim asked before stepping back into the hallway and pulling the door closed. He ran a hand over his lower face, the other hand on his hip as he turned to face his captain, who stood near Blair and one of the newest desk officers. She was young, very much a rookie, and was spending her first month running IDs, reviewing reports, etc, while she waited to be assigned to a team. Blair usually would have taken that opportunity to flirt with her, but Jim only heard him ask her for some ibuprofen and water for the detainee, rather than a date. Jim handed over both men’s IDs they’d taken from their wallets to a waiting officer. As soon as she walked away to run the checks, he looked at Simon.

“Simon, I smelled a lot of gunpowder,” Jim said in a low voice, knowing that only Blair and Captain Banks knew of his abilities. “When I tried to follow it, I could hear those two talking about killing some guy before he could ‘get to the cops’.” Simon pulled his head back in surprise, then walked down the hall to the next door, to the observation room, with his detective and the consultant following. They stepped inside and just watched casually for a few minutes. They saw the shorter one, Dean, lean across the table and seemed to talk frantically, concern etched in his face, with the taller man, who laid his forehead on the table and appeared to mutter his replies. Rafe was nearby and only made odd, confused faces, but didn’t interfere.

“Tell me at least you have something I can use to show probable cause, Jim,” Simon groaned, watching the room through the one-way mirror. When Jim cringed, Simon sighed. “Come on, give me anything. After that last fiasco of trying to explain how you knew what you knew, we have to be more careful. I’m not telling you to not do your job,” he said, holding up a hand to halt Jim’s argument when he opened his mouth. “Just find something that gives us a reason to interview them.”

“Well, I did hear some of their discussion about murdering the guy after they got out of the car right in front of the precinct building,” Jim finally shrugged. “And when I asked the one with the short hair to open the trunk, he twitched like he was going to reach for a gun, which we found tucked into his waistband, along with a knife in his boot. The other one only had a pocket knife.” Simon nodded, with a relieved sigh. 

“All right, did you find the gunpowder?” Jim leaned on the edge of the glass and tried to ignore Blair standing so close to his side. He paused to watch another moment as the older one swiveled his head, assessing the room, smirking at the one-way glass. Obviously, he’d been in an interrogation room before.

“Taggart has the car now. Once he gets into the trunk and sees what’s there, we’ll know more. For now, all we can do is hold them for 24 hours and question them based on the conversation they were having of pre-meditated murder.” Simon turned a scowl onto his detective. 

“Slim argument, Ellison.” Simon sighed again. “All right. Find out what you can and let me know what Taggart finds so we can see how we want to proceed with these two.” He turned, nodding once at Jim and Blair, then left the observation room.

“Jim, man,” Blair said once they were alone, “You were smelling the gunpowder in the trunk while were driving through traffic, weren’t you?” When Jim only grunted, the short man began to fidget. “That’s amazing! I wonder how much they actually have in the trunk that you could smell it. Maybe Joel can give us the amount and we can go back to where you first smelled it so we can like try to quantify how well your sense of smell worked. Maybe we need to-.” Ellison spun, putting a hand on Blair’s shoulder to stop him.

“Chief, one thing at a time, okay?” When his shadow closed his mouth, Jim half-smiled, then patted his shoulder before heading back to the interview room. “You can wait here and watch from this room, or you can wait in the bullpen.” Blair opened his mouth to argue, but one raised eyebrow from Jim and he subsided, heading out to sit at Jim’s desk and maybe help him catch up on paperwork again. 

As he opened the door into the interview room, he passed the officer he’d handed the ID’s off to and nodded to her. Stepping into the room with Rafe and the two suspects, Jim immediately noticed that the older one whipped around to watch them come in. Sam was just swallowing something and had a paper cup of water in his hand. The officer must have brought him painkillers for his headache, as prompted by Sandburg.

“So,” he started, moving to the end of the table nearest the younger of the two. “Feeling any better?” 

‘Sam’ was pinching the bridge of his nose, but squinted one eye open to look as he shrugged. 

“Feels less like a pickaxe. Hopefully, the tablets Officer Renin gave me will bring it closer to head in a vice.” Jim furrowed his brow and glanced at Rafe. 

“The cutie in the uniform you passed coming in here,” winked the shorter man. Rafe shrugged in a gesture that he wasn’t wrong. 

“You guys know we’re running your ID’s, so care to save us all time and give me some names?”

“I’m Dean and this is my brother, Sam.” The older one smiled cheekily. Sam just lifted the hand from the bridge of his nose to wave slightly, then put his fingers back where they were to continue pressing. “That fella’,” he winked at Rafe, making him raise an eyebrow, “Is Detective Rafe, and you are Detective Jim Ellison. Alpha dog and ex-military. Am I right?”

“Dean,” Sam groaned, eyes still closed. He sighed, then turned his head slightly, laying both hands on the table and squinting at Jim. “Are we under arrest? Washington, like most of the country, requires probable cause for doing a search, must less a seizure.” Jim nearly snorted when he saw the older brother open his mouth with mischief in his eyes, as though to say some smartass remark, but stopped short when the younger merely raised a hand without even shifting his gaze from Jim. They either really were brothers or long-time friends.

“I had probable cause.” When Dean’s eyebrows went up, Sam raised that hand again, which made the older brother glare at the younger one, but he didn’t interrupt. “I noticed your car,” Jim said, perching lightly on the edge of the table, racing more towards Dean, realizing he’d get a more visceral reaction from the mouthy one. Sure enough, the green-eyed man’s pride for his car shone through, an unstoppable smug smile. “Just wanted to get a better look, maybe extend my appreciation of her condition-.”

“See, Sammy?” Dean couldn’t stop his smirk. Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. “At least someone ‘appreciates’ my baby.”

“Dean.” Sam groaned again, closing his eyes, then gathering himself and returning to Jim’s face.

“-but when I got close, you both were getting out and I heard something I’m assuming you didn’t mean to discuss in public.” Dean again opened his mouth with a sound of disbelief, but this time it was Jim’s smirk that cut him off. “And when you turned, I caught a glimpse of the weapon bulge.” He turned a raised eyebrow from Dean’s scowl to Sam’s impressed frown. “And finally, while I was handcuffing Dean here over the trunk, I could smell the heavy odor of gunpowder.”

“Bullshit!” Dean burst, leaning forward. Sam threw a glare at his brother, who then jerked with a yelp. Jim gathered the taller man had used his longer legs to kick his brother underneath the table. 

“There are cameras on the outside of the police precinct, Detective Ellison,” Sam said once Dean shut up. Now Jim and Rafe exchanged curious glances. “You say you smelled the gunpowder while handcuffing Dean over the trunk. However, you were demanding he open the trunk before you ever got within 15 feet of it. How could you claim to have probable cause to search the trunk and seize the car if you didn’t smell it until you were already handcuffing my brother. Which also then makes it questionable that you did see a weapon bulge, which negates the probable cause.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said, thoroughly impressed and now smiling at Sam, the kick already forgiven. “Exactly. So you got jack.”

“Everything you ‘found’,” Sam said, using finger quotes, “was search and seizure without probable cause and thus illegal and negates the arrest as valid.” 

“Damn, Sam,” Dean muttered in awe. He smirked, then leaned back, kicking his feet up on the table and challenged Jim or Rafe to argue with his educated brother. 

“Hmmph,” Jim huffed, eying each of the brothers. Dean, with his cocky, challenging smile, and Sam, fighting to not squint under whatever pain he was still suffering, but also challenging either detective to prove him wrong, although not as smug. He stood, gestured at Rafe to follow, and then led him out of the room, closing the door securely behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually gotten several chapters of all my stories written, but need to edit before posting, so I'm trying to edit and post a few chapters of each every week. The story I'm focusing on depends on how good or bad the day was.


	4. Not Quiet Enough, Winchesters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Simon rib on Blair and later, Jim listens in on a private conversation between the brothers.

“This explains a lot,” Jim said as he reviewed the information Office Renin had compiled. He was sitting in Simon’s office, Blair sifting through duplicates of the data.

“Holy Hannah!” Blair said softly, his eyes wide and shining. 

“What?” Simon asked. When neither of them answered him, lost in their own thoughts, he huffed and rolled his eyes. “Someone better explain something or we’ll have no choice about releasing them.” Jim glanced up, then back at the papers in his hand.

“They’re Sam and Dean Winchester,” He said, handing over the top profile page on Sam to Simon. “Sam was pre-law at Stanford University up until about a year or so ago. That’s why he was so knowledgeable about probable cause. And they noticed the cameras on the outside of the building. It’s enough to give reasonable doubt to any jury.” 

“So, he’s a student?” Simon asked, letting them summarize it all for him.

“Nah, man,” Blair sighed. “Dropped out about 18 months ago when his girlfriend was killed in a fire in their apartment. And it’s a real shame. The girlfriend, but him too. He’s like a genius. Really smart.” Even Simon looked impressed. 

“No record, totally clean,” Jim added. Then he handed the second profile sheet to Simon. “Dean, however, has multiple charges, including impersonating law officers, grave desecration, b&e, credit card fraud. But it also says he’s dead, that he was positively identified as the murder suspect that was shot and killed in St. Louis.” 

“So, there’s a genius college dropout and dead man in my interrogation room?” Simon asked slowly. Jim and Blair exchanged a nervous glance. “I feel a headache coming on.” 

“Want me to get Becky to bring you some ibuprofen?” Blair asked, making to stand up. 

“Becky?” Both Jim and Simon asked. Blair blushed a little with a smile.

“Officer Renin…,” He ducked his head and darted from the room. “Be right back.” Simon shook his head, took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Jim smiled in sympathy. 

“Jim, I need more here. You said you heard them talking about killing someone, but only if the guy gave them no choice. They were armed but didn’t fight their way out. Do you really think they’re here to murder someone?” Jim sat back with a sigh.

“There’s something hinky, Simon. My first instinct was that they were dangerous, well, the older one, Dean, anyway. And the more we find out,” he gestured with a frown at the papers on his captain’s desk, “it doesn’t exactly override that. The younger one, Sam, is intelligent and tries to make himself appear less threatening. That migraine, seizure, whatever it was, didn’t look like a regular migraine or seizure either.”

“What do you mean?” Simon asked, brow furrowed. Jim hemmed and hawed for a moment, shifting in the chair.

“For instance, he kept saying ‘no’ while it was happening. And looking around like he could see something we couldn’t.” Captain Banks hummed in thought. He looked up as his office door opened, Sandburg coming in with his usual energy, a paper cup of water in one hand and a medicine bottle clamped in the other. 

“Here ya go,” he said, laying the cup in front of him, then twisting open the bottle to shake out a few of the tablets. Simon raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you were all about that all natural stuff, herbs and incense and stuff,” he said, popping the ibuprofen tablets into his mouth and throwing back the water as a chaser. Blair shrugged and sat down.

“Usually I am,” he replied, his bright blue eyes glancing between them, “but most people will turn down the offer for pain relief if they don’t know what it is. Everybody knows ibuprofen. And that guy, Sam, really needed something for that headache. Really hate to see people suffer.” He smiled openly, rubbing his hands on his jean-covered thighs. When Jim smirked at him, he looked confused.

“And I bet you were more than happy to have more chances to talk to ‘Becky’, eh, Chief?” Simon snorted as he saw Blair’s slight discomfort. 

“Whatever, man,” he chuffed, before jumping up and grabbing the bottle of pain medicine he’d laid on the corner of Simon’s desk. “Oh, I forgot to bring this back to Becky. I…” He stopped, realizing he was doing exactly what Jim had accused him of, but blushed slightly, before just snatching the bottle and darting back out the door, followed by Simon and Jim’s laughter.

*****

Back in the observation room, Blair standing beside him, shifting as always, never able to truly be still, Jim had his arms crossed as he watched the two men. He had the speaker on so he could listen in. They were speaking in hushed tones that anyone else would have trouble hearing, even right next to them, but he dialed his hearing up and listened.

“-got to get out of here before he shows,” the older one whispered, looking around at any possible ways out. The younger shook his head gingerly with a wince. 

“Dean, we came here for a reason. Maybe it’s better if we’re here when he’s brought in. Then we can stop him.”

“Listen, genius, what can we do if we’re in handcuffs? You said you saw him in that big room, right?” Sam nodded gently. “If we’re sitting in here in these,” he rattled his cuff against the table, “we won’t see him come in and we can’t run interference. All these cops are gonna’ die, Sam. And we’re stuck in here.” He rattled the cuffs angrily, the sound loud enough to make Jim wince with his hearing dialed up. 

“What are they saying?” Blair asked in a quiet voice. He had learned in the beginning that unless Jim was ‘zoned out’, he had to keep his voice modulated. Jim just held up a hand to hold off his questions. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” the younger man finally agreed, “But there are several ways he could be brought inside.”

“Right, okay, the garage,” Dean ticked off on his fingers, “the front entrance, and crap, probably more because we didn’t have time to get a good look.” He stopped, concentrating on his brother as he thought. “Crap. You’re right. We have to be here when they bring him in. But not in cuffs. You sure they can’t hold us?”

“Unless they find all those warrants and decide to do a 48 hour hold on you, they should. There should be nothing on me to justify keeping me.” Dean scoffed a laugh.

“Okay, Boy Scout, tell me this. If you’re free and I’m not, how do we stop this guy from blowing up the building and killing all these people and possibly the kids next door?” Sam sighed, sounding very weary for a 24 year old kid, in Jim’s book.

“I’ll get them to let me stay in the big room, bullpen, right?” Dean nodded and shrugged, not sure. “I’m pretty sure that’s where it’ll happen.”

“Nuh, uh, no way,” his brother said louder, before lowering his voice and leaning further over the table, now tense, “You are NOT going against him on your own. Ansem and Andy controlled people’s minds with their voices. Max had telekinesis. You get visions, Sam, visions. Not exactly a superpower that can match the kid who you said, what, can blow things up at will? No.”

Sam sat up straighter, his own voice rising, getting stronger as he argued. 

“None of their powers work on me, remember? And I moved that cupboard, right? Maybe I can try that again. Maybe I can talk him down, get him out.” Dean slammed his hand on the table, making both Sam and Jim wince. Blair’s eyes widened as they darted from Jim’s intense face, to the tension between the brothers in the interrogation room.

“Wake up, Sam! That cupboard thing was a one-time thing. You haven’t been able to do it since then. And you’re going to diffuse a human bomb with words?”

“Negotiators do it all the time, Dean!”

“With years of training! I know your puppy dog eyes work most of the time, but this is a station full of cops and you said it yourself, a ticking time bomb. You are NOT facing him alone.” The room went quiet, only the sound of their breathing harsh as they calmed down.

“We may not have a choice.” Dean deflated, falling back into his chair.

“When do we ever?” He shook his head, grumbling to himself. 

“What did they say?” Blair asked once he realized they weren’t going to keep talking. Jim glanced at him with irritation, then huffed. 

“Have you ever met anyone who is psychic?” Jim’s question threw him for a moment. He tilted his head, then blew out his cheeks.

“Well, yeah. Some claim to be and most of them are just really good at reading a room, not really psychic. What’s this got to do with them?” His eyes widened and he took another look, trying to see what he might have missed. 

“No, real psychics,” Jim said, as though Blair had answered the wrong question. “Tell the future, talk to the dead, that kind of thing.” Blair gasped.

“NO freakin’ way! A vision? That ‘migraine’ was a vision?!” Jim grimaced as Blair’s voice began to go up and gain in volume. He held up his hand to slow him down.

“Slow down there, Chief. We don’t know yet,” He put his hand on Blair’s shoulder to temper the anthropologist’s obvious excitement. “There was a man in the tribe who had visions. He described the effects just like we saw with the younger Winchester in there. Sudden onset migraines, sensitivity to light and sound, appeared to see things that weren’t there, locking up almost like a seizure. Sometimes nosebleeds.”

“Did they come true?” Blair asked, breathless. “His visions. Did they?” Jim made an almost grimace as he glanced back into the room.

“He didn’t always share what he saw, but when he did, yeah,” he finally admitted. One of Blair’s hands went to his hair, excitedly pushing it back, tugging it sideways, then pushing it back again. His eyes were large and sparkling, darting from side to side. His other hand was on his hip, seeming to just hold onto himself. 

“Wow, just crazy, just wow!” Jim half-smiled.

“So, a cop with superhero senses is your every day, but a real psychic is crazy?” Blair stopped and rubbed both hands together, his eyes moving around as though he were looking for books in the recesses of his memory. 

“This is metaphysical, man, more than biology, genetics. This is beyond the mind.” He gestured around them as though explaining how he wanted to redecorate, making Jim shake his head. “We should go talk to them.” He turned abruptly to leave the room, but Jim grabbed his arm, stopping him before he could open the door.

“Whoa, there. We do this my way. You have to wait in here. Or you can go find out if Taggert finished his search of their car yet.” Blair shook his head, his curls swinging violently.

“No way, you have to let me be there. I have so many questions.” Jim glared at him and he paused.

“There are warrants out for them, and they are military trained. You go off in there and they feel scared or trapped, and you’ll be the easy target to be a hostage.” Blair’s face fell, but he nodded. “You wait here or go find Taggert. You don’t want to find Taggert, use the phone there and dial 14 and find out where he stands on that search.” Blair looked at the phone, then pulled himself together.

“Right, I’ll call now, give me 3 minutes before you really start. Please Jim.” He turned his blue eyes up at Jim, once again reminding the detective that Blair was, in essence, a puppy. He smirked, remembering Dean’s comment about Sam’s ‘puppy dog look’ and honestly wondered how it compared to Blair’s. He nodded, then headed out of the room.


	5. Winchester Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers try to convince Jim to let them go and then discuss the vision.

This time, when Jim entered the room, it was just him and the Winchester brothers. He’d had another reason to be glad Sandburg wanted to watch from the observation room. That would let Jim have a more private conversation with them and Sandburg could alert him if anyone outside themselves or Simon was listening in. He had his own secrets to keep and from what he’d overheard from these two, there was certainly more to them than they had found so far.

Both sets of eyes, green and hazel shot in his direction when he stepped inside, the oldest trying to hide his initial reaction that it was Jim, and not one of the others. The youngest, however, sat up straight and appeared to be gathering his thoughts before jumping into another discussion, probably working on talking his way out of the interrogation room and into the bullpen. Jim smirked a little, causing the oldest, Dean, to narrow his eyes.

“Sam and Dean Winchester,” he said, letting a little awe into the tone, wanting to set them on edge. Sure enough, they shared a look, the older unreadable, but the younger swallowed and looked panicked before sighing and it melted to a more resigned look. Jim dropped the folder on the table between them, flipping it open and spreading the papers so they could see the two top sheets. The first was Sam’s information sheet, the picture from his Stanford ID. The info was pretty straightforward as he had no record, no warrants. The second, was Dean’s arrest record, headed by his mug shot. It was a list of dates, codes, locations, and charges. Sam reached for them first, glancing at Jim for permission first. He slid both over to peruse while Dean leaned over the table and tilted his head, trying to read what Sam was seeing.

Jim braced his feet and crossed his arms, looking down at them, letting them feel his imposing size, internally huffing at the memory of both Dean and Blair having called him “alpha dog” before. 

“How’s your head now, Mr. Winchester?” He asked, raising one eyebrow when Sam barely glanced at him before turning back to his brother’s record, reviewing it as though he didn’t know all the information. Dean had slid Sam’s sheet over and was smiling proudly as he looked it over. It confirmed that they had been apart for a while and although they had been reported to be traveling together since the death of Sam’s girlfriend, they appeared to still be getting to know each other. 

“Better, thanks,” he shrugged, his shaggy hair falling around his face. Sam glanced up at the door expectantly, but Jim’s dialed up hearing did not pick up any footsteps coming in their direction. 

“Hmm,” He grunted mildly, before turning his upper body towards the older brother, making it clear he was focusing on Dean, who immediately side-eyed him, then turned his own body towards Jim with a smug smile. “And Dean Winchester.”

“Very astute of you, detective,” Dean drawled, the smirk evident in his voice. There was a quiet ‘Dean’ from the younger man, and Dean laid down Sam’s info sheet, tilting his gaze up at Jim. “You know, half of what is on that page-,” Dean said. Jim smirked.

“Pages,” Jim interrupted. Dean only shrugged.

“-pages, ain’t me. But I can already tell you don’t believe me.” He leaned back and attempted to cross his own arms, failing with the handcuffs kept his arm too close to the table, then huffed.

“On paper, you’re supposed to be dead,” Jim smiled slowly, eyes narrowing like a predator. Sam shifted uneasily, only side glancing up, but Dean just smiled and shook his head. 

“Like I said, wasn’t me. They killed the guy that did it. He just looked a whole hell of a lot like me and had no ID on him, so they just slapped my name on the file.” 

“How do you know he had no ID on him? No law enforcement would have released that information and there’d have been an addendum to the report about an error in identification if you had come forward to make sure they knew he wasn’t you.” Jim leaned down, one hand on the table top, his face well into Dean’s personal space. 

“I spoke to one of the surviving victims,” Sam spoke up, folding his hands together over the paper in front of him. “Becky and Zach were friends from college and we were in town when all of this happened. We were honestly concerned they would lock Dean up until they could confirm the mistaken identity and we were on an urgent errand.” When Jim hummed in thought, Sam cleared his throat. “We assumed, obviously incorrectly, that if he was marked as dead, we wouldn’t have any further issues.” Sam shrugged and Dean smirked.

“Obviously,” Jim replied, glancing between the two of them. 

“So, why are we being detained?” Dean asked belligerently, leaning towards Jim now, a calculating look in his eye. The younger brother was glancing between Jim, his brother, and the door. Finally, Jim had to ask.

“Mr. Winchester, just who are you expecting to come through that door?” Sam looked down at his hands. 

“I don’t know,” he replied, with no hesitation. “I’m not sure. Look, I know you’re not going to believe me,” he started, leaning in earnestly, turning worried eyes up at Jim, “But there’s a guy coming and you really, really need to keep him as far away from people as possible.” He used his free hand to nervously push his hair out of his eyes. 

“Sam,” came Dean’s voice, which made Sam sputter, then subside, muttering to himself. Then Dean turned once again to Jim. “Again, why are we being detained? Because I know there’s no way you actually caught us doing anything that would make you think we’re law breakers.” It was Jim’s turn to smirk. 

“I really did hear you both talking,” he told them, watching them closely for responses, “about stopping some guy before he got into the station because you might have to kill him.” Sam sucked in a deep breath, looking to Dean for guidance. Dean just twisted in his chair and smirked back at him. 

“There’s no way you heard that unless you have super hearing.” Jim turned his full attention to the green-eyed man. 

“So, you’re admitting it?” When he said that, Dean scowled and shook his head. 

“We were just talking,” he growled. “There’s no law about threatening to kill someone.”

“Uh, Dean,” Sam interjected. “Yeah, there is.” When Dean gave him an incredulous look, Sam shrugged.

“Really? Well, that’s just a stupid law. How many cubicle workers talk about killing their bosses and co-workers every day, but you don’t see them going in and shooting up…Oh, yeah. I see it now.” He smiled with amusement at Sam before turning back to Jim. “Look, I’m gonna level with you. You’re gonna think we’re totally nuts, but we may be running out of time if Sam’s right.” He sent Sam a questioning look, but he only shrugged. 

“Sometimes we have lead time,” Sam said, voice hesitant, not the lawyer-like confidence from before, “and others are real time. I can’t tell you which one this is.” He leaned forward over the table. Dean leaned towards him too.

“You couldn’t see anything that might place the time or date?” Sam shook his head at Dean.

“It was a split-second flash, Dean. I was lucky to get the name of the police department. Even the reflection of his face in the glass was more than I usually get to go on.” Sam rattled the hands in the cuffs before huffing in exasperation. “And being stuck in here, I won’t see him when he is brought in.” Jim leaned down between them, slapping his hands on the table. They both jumped.

“What do you mean a ‘split-second flash’?” By now, Jim knew they’d have to address what he’d found out, and this was his way out of explaining his own abilities. “Are you trying to tell me you’re a psychic?” Sam and Dean exchanged a complicated look.

“No,” Dean said.

“Yes,” Sam said, at the same time. They exchanged another look before Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, he is.” Jim turned to look Sam in the eye, seeing concern, fear, and determination.

“Okay, I know you probably won’t believe me,” Sam began. “But I have visions of people dying. So, we go and try to stop them from coming true. That’s why we’re here. I had a vision of this police precinct and the guy being brought in. I only caught his reflection in the glass window he passed. I guess I was seeing it through his eyes. But he was in handcuffs and looked upset. Everything started vibrating. Then, the building exploded.” Jim couldn’t help but believe what he was saying. “Look, I can’t prove it to you, and it’s a lot to ask for on faith, but if you can show me a roster of your policemen, I can pick out the one who was escorting him in and you can change the outcome of the vision just by redirecting the cop away from here for now.” 

When Jim didn’t respond with more than a grunt, Sam searched his memory of the vision and locked on a name he had heard. 

“In the vision, one of the policemen,” Sam said quickly, “was talking to another one in the hallway and called him Joel. They were talking about explosives and a Jaguars basketball game they both went to the night before.”

Jim stood back up and paced away. Joel Taggart and Mark Benson had gone to the basketball game last night. They had had the tickets for weeks and couldn’t stop talking about it. He eyed Sam, then glanced at the angry, frustrated look on Dean’s face.

“So that ‘migraine’ you had earlier?” He turned to watch Sam’s response, which was just a half shrug. “That was a vision?”

“Yeah. I can’t control them, and they hurt like hell, but I can’t have it on my conscience to know it’s going to happen and not try to stop it.” He saw Dean give Sam a look of concern, but Sam refused to meet his eye, staring at Jim now, as though trying to force him to believe him. “So, will you let us stop him from blowing you all up?”

“No, you guys are just civilians,” Jim replied, shaking his head. “Not saying I don’t believe you, but Sandburg would have a field day interviewing you if you’re for real.” Just at that moment, Rafe stepped back into the room with a stunned look on his face. 

“Guess they opened the trunk.” Dean whispered to Sam with a smirk. 

Rafe did not hear it, but Jim did. He met Rafe at the door. The detective frantically whispered about what Taggart had found in the trunk of the classic Impala and how even he was impressed with the arsenal. Jim’s eyebrows went up in surprise. Apparently, there was no bomb, just a lot of firepower. But not just regular firearms. There were bladed weapons, including machetes, occult symbols, herbs in packages, and flasks of waters, each flask embossed with a cross. He turned around, slowly crossing back to lean on the table, looking between two pairs of hazel eyes, one more green, the other, a mottled green/brown/blue. 

“I know I’m asking for trouble asking you two what the meaning of all that weaponry in your trunk is for, but I’m not really surprised at the firepower with as much gunpowder as I smelled.” Sam was instantly on point, like a hunting dog, but his eyes were round in horror. Dean’s smirk was wiped as he stared at Sam. 

“Do you have a guy named Joel who works with explosives?” Came Sam’s voice, wavering. Jim gave a short nod and Sam became kinetic, not able to stop moving, looking around, nearly panicked. “Dean,” he said urgently, “In the vision, this guy, Joel, wasn’t just talking about explosives. He said the word ‘gunpowder’. I think it’s today. He’s coming, Dean!” Sam began pulling on his handcuffs, then turned imploring eyes on the detective. “Detective Ellison, arrest us, fine, but there’s a guy being brought in soon, today. He’s my age, dark hair, dark eyes. Wearing a navy blue peacoat. He’s the source of the explosion. You need to redirect him somewhere away from people!” 

Jim stood straight, taking in what Sam was asking. Honestly, with the way his heartbeat and breathing were rabbiting, this guy was frantic. He ran a hand over his mouth, before huffing and heading out of the room. As he pulled the door open, he felt an odd but mild vibration coming from the hallway. He heard a gasp behind him, the handcuff rattling getting louder. He glanced back, seeing Sam had gone pale and was staring past him at someone. Jim turned back to look down the hallway in time to see a beat cop leading a detainee matching Sam’s description into the bathroom. 


	6. We came, we saw...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam tries for a Dean solution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delays in posting. Life happens, depression and anxiety suck, and I'm kinda sure I'll get more regular here soon.

“Stay put,” he said forcefully, pointing at both of them, as he let the door fall shut behind him. He crossed the hall where the beat cop was now standing outside the bathroom door alone. “Officer,” he called out to the beat cop. “Where’s your prisoner?” He figured he was in the restroom but had to make sure. When the officer thumbed over his shoulder towards the restroom, it was confirmed. 

“Restrooms on our floor are out of order,” the older cop laughed. “The guy is so antsy that when he said he had to pee, I figured I wouldn’t make him wait and maybe pee himself.” Jim smiled back at him, trying to pinpoint where the tingling vibration was coming from.

“What was he arrested for?” The beat cop shrugged.

“He’s here for questioning about those weird vandalism incidents. You know all those places that looked like they were exploded from the inside but the fire marshal and bomb squad found not a hint of an accelerant or an explosive device? He was seen running away from two of them.” The beat cop shook his head. “In my opinion, the kid didn’t do it, but he might have seen who did because he seems pretty scared of something.”

Jim turned to go back into the interrogation room, but paused, his hearing picking up a quiet, frenzied discussion. 

“Just hold still,” Dean muttered under this breath. “Would it be too much to ask for just a few days of peace at the beach?”

“Dean,” Sam whispered back to him. “Let me try to talk to him.”

“We can’t save everyone, Sam,” Dean grunted.

“What if you can’t save me?” the question was quiet, but the room went quieter as the conversation stopped. 

The sound of metal clicking and then a chair sliding made him open the door, to find Dean standing, free of his handcuffs, leaning over Sam’s hands, picking the locks with what used to be a paperclip from inside the folder. Both men looked up when he walked in but didn’t stop until both handcuffs were off Sam. Jim opened his mouth to order them both to stop but the door behind him opened, a frenzied Sandburg darting inside and closing the door behind him. 

“Wow!” Blair gushed, staring at Sam in awe. “Just wow, man!” He glanced at Dean. “The picking of the handcuffs with the paperclip, wickedly cool stuff, man.” Then he turned full focus back on Sam. Both detainees looked stunned for a moment, then exchanged a look and walked past him, only getting stopped by Ellison at the door.

“Not saying I’m completely on board yet,” Jim said, hand up, “but you have to let us handle this. However he’s hiding the explosives on himself-.” Sam shook his head and interrupted the detective.

“You don’t get it. He IS the explosive.” Now Jim’s eyebrows went up again. 

“An ability, like your being psychic?” Sam and Dean exchanged another pained look. Finally, Dean threw up his hands.

“Dude, you may be cops, but you don’t have experience with this kind of stuff. We do.” He turned to glare at Blair, who had opened his mouth to begin his endless questions, and that look shut him up. Jim would have been impressed if the situation would have been different. “We’re wasting time. We don’t know when he’s going to do it but if we don’t stop him, we’ll all be dead! Now move.”

“You can’t just shoot him,” Jim said, still standing in front of the door. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Of course not, you took our weapons. We’ll improvise.” He looked over at Sam and shrugged. Then he pulled back and rammed his shoulder into Jim, knocking him backwards, away from the door, but he didn’t go to the floor. As Jim recovered his balance, Sam and Dean darted out the door with a quick ‘sorry’ from Sam. 

“Stay here!” Jim shouted at Blair, as he ran out into the hallway and into Sam’s nightmare. 

There, coming out of the elevator were Taggert and Benson, deep into a discussion, smiling and laughing. If Jim had to guess, they were reliving the basketball game from last night. Standing just outside his department’s glass doors were the beat cop and the man, just as Sam had described him. Sam and Dean were walking very quickly towards the guy. When the cop saw the two men coming towards them fast, he tensed and reached for his gun, causing his detainee to flinch. Suddenly, Jim could feel vibrations coming from that direction and they were building fast. It was like a sonic wave coming off the guy. Dean stumbled, going to his knees, as did Taggert. Sam was shouting for the guy to ‘stop.’ But the guy was backing away, shaking his head. The entire building was beginning to vibrate, with everyone looking around as though it was an earthquake. 

Jim stumbled towards them, but fell to his knees, throwing his hands over his oversensitive ears. Sam, seeming to be the only one not affected by the sonic vibrations, soon reached the target and put his hand out to try to stop him. When the man only shrunk back, the vibrations growing, Sam did the only thing he could think of. He threw a punch, cracking against his jaw, dropping him in to unconsciousness with one hit. The vibrations stopped, and all those affected by the sonic sounds scrambled up. Behind him, Dean was the first to really recover but a first glance around made him dive forward, as the beat cop was up, his gun drawn and was aiming straight for Sam. 

“No!” Dean yelled, running as fast as he could, Sam turning in surprise, but the gun went off, very loud in the close hallway. Sam’s eyes went wide as the bullet apparently had enough of a trajectory that it went through his thrown up defensive arm, then through his shoulder, throwing the very tall man against the wall. Jim was up, securing the weapon from the beat cop quickly, waving for the others to stand down. 

“Whoa! Whoa!” He yelled, holding up his hands, one displaying the inert weapon, the other to halt the other cops, his back to Sam and Dean. “No need for weapons discharge, officer.” The beat cop stood there in shock, mouth guppying, as he took in everything that had happened. 

“Sorry, detective,” he stammered. “That earthquake has me rattled and then I see these guys barreling down the hallway. Then that guy slugs my detainee,” he gestures at Sam as he puts his gun away, “I don’t see a visitor’s badge so I assumed he was another detainee.” Taggert, Benson, and a few other policemen had pulled their weapons as well, but re-holstered them as the chaos resolved. Jim turned his head towards where Dean hovered over his brother, who was sitting heavily against the wall, blood smeared down the wall and dripping from his arm and shoulder. 

“Rafe, you and Joel take this guy’s detainee and take him to substation G. He’s a contagion hazard and luckily it seems only Sam there,” he gestured at the tall man being tended by his brother, “came in contact with the suspect blood. Also luckily, he’s immune. So get some gloves and masks and get him to G and into isolation until we can get a team in to check him out.” Someone had ducked out while he was talking and returned very quickly with latex gloves and face masks and began handing them out to everyone. 

“I’ve been with him for an hour or so,” the beat cop said nervously. “Could I be infected?” Jim looked up at him from where he was now crouching next to the suspect. 

“Can’t be too careful. Head to Substation H and wait for us to send medical. And someone call an ambulance for Mr. Winchester.” Blair, who had popped into the hallway once the vibrations had stopped, had grabbed the first aid kit off the wall by the entrance to the lab and handed it over to Dean, then pulled out his phone to call for an ambulance. 

“Hey, little brother, you trying to give me a heart attack?” He efficiently pulled out gauze and bandages and began pulling Sam’s jacket and shirt off to get the wounds. Once determining it was a thru and thru, he covered all four holes with gauze, folded his arm against his chest, just below the shoulder shot, and began adding more gauze to stem the blood before wrapping it in a sling style to keep it covered and up until better medical help could arrive. Sam smirked at him, barely letting the pain filter into his smile.

“Nah, those double bacon cheeseburgers will get you first.” Dean looked up at him with a mock horror.

“You shut your mouth. Why do you think I get so many dates? Gotta work it all off somehow?” He grinned smugly, causing Sam to roll his eyes. 

“I’m sure with all the beer, chili cheese fries, and pie, you could dominate the porn industry if that’s how it really worked.” Dean chuffed a laugh, then used some wipes to clean around his bandaging. 

“Nah, couldn’t warp your college boy brain if you accidentally turned the channel to find my sexy ass getting it on live.” Sam slapped at him with his good hand.

“Ewww, Dean. Stop, just…stop.” Dean snorted.

There was commotion behind them as Rafe and Joel carefully moved the suspect into the elevator to get him moved to isolation at the far off substation that was really more of a locked holding cell in a deserted area used for overflow in the bad areas. More for drunks sleeping it off than the really bad people. The beat cop was being escorted at a distance by another officer, ideally to the other substation where he’d remain until a medical team could test him. He’d come back negative, but precautions were precautions. Simon had come out to see what was going on, tugging on his ears as he approached Jim, who was supervising all the movement and guiding the EMTs over to see to Sam. 

“Jim?” Jim and Simon looked at each other, then over at Blair, who still waited next to the brother who was being lifted onto the gurney. Dean was hovering around, patting Sam’s hand or petting his hair absently. When the EMTs strapped Sam in and began to leave, Dean started to follow, but Jim stepped in, grabbing both Dean’s and Blair’s arms, pulling them back. 

“You two, back in the room.” When Dean began to protest, Sam just waved with a cheeky smile. The EMTs got him onto the elevator and headed to the hospital and Jim and Simon herded Dean and Blair back to the interrogation room. 

Once they were inside, Jim silenced Dean’s protests that he be allowed to go with Sam and Blair’s protests that he could accompany Dean so he could interview Sam more later. With a glare at both of them, pointing at the chairs for them to drop into, he turned to catch Simon up. 


	7. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gives Jim and Blair 'The Talk'. Sam gets stitches and Nurse Barbara.

“So not cool,” Dean huffed, foot tapping in agitation as he and the curly-haired guy watched through the office window as the officer talking to his captain. Jim made some motions with his hands and his face held some concern and frustration. As for the captain, he looked put out, as though this was just another day, just one more thing that made his life more complicated, not two psychics battling it in the police station hallways.

“Listen, I gotta know,” Blair finally asked, talking low, conspiratorially. “Your brother…” Dean raised an eyebrow and glanced over at the shorter man. The hunter sighed, glancing around the room, estimating his chances of getting out without being caught. Sadly, the incident had left them all on alert and all eyes were on him as the stranger in their midst. Dean had felt the nervous energy building from the guy sitting next to him and had been hoping to maybe use that as a distraction. Realizing that he wasn’t going to get away easily and Sam would probably be under guard at the hospital too, he sighed and decided to expend some of his agitation on Blair.

“He’ll be fine,” Dean replied, running a palm over his thigh to have something to grip. His jaw was clenched just thinking about his brother being injured and away from his protection while he was stuck here. First chance he got, he was getting Sam somewhere safe, coming back to get the Impala and their gear, then take out the bomb kid if need be. 

“Good, yeah, but has he always been psychic? Because this one tribe I stayed with in-,” Blair’s blue eyes had gone wide, his face open and smiling and nearly frenetic with energy, but Dean’s hand popping up between them gave him pause.

“Look, I’ll give you the basics but Sam’s the brains here. You want to get into research and archeology or whatever, you talk to him. But I can tell you, there are still lots of questions both of us still have about his abilities that we’re still looking for answers to.”

“Abilities?” Jim asked, having come up to the two men so quietly that the normally vigilant Dean flinched and glared at the older man. Dean shrugged his shoulder. 

“What else can he do?” Blair asked breathily, almost like he were getting high on the conversation. Dean turned a brief glare on him too.

“Okaaaaay, let’s take this on the road to the hospital and I’ll tell you what I can on the way. Deal?” He stood up, attempting to stare down Jim, but the seasoned veteran only grunted, crossing his arms. Blair bounced up, his curls flying around his shoulders. 

“Great, let me grab my notepad and recorder.” He went around the desk and grabbed a cloth backpack from where it was tucked underneath. With an innocent smile that Dean recognized as one his brother used when he knew he’d won an argument, but thought it wasn’t worth the glare smugness would cause, Blair blinked at the two for only a second before heading towards the elevators. Dean smirked and shook his head, catching out of the corner of his eye that Jim did the same thing. They both dropped the alpha routine and followed quietly after Blair.

*****

By the time they were pulling up in the visitor’s parking lot at the hospital, Blair was frantically writing notes with Jim eyeing Dean through the rearview mirror. Dean was seating in the middle seat in the back as Jim drove, with the researcher in the front passenger seat. Jim’s look was guarded but not quite wholly disbelieving. Dean had launched into ‘The Talk’ about the supernatural existing as soon as they were secure and on the way and the shorter man’s rapid fire questions, accompanied by some grunts by Jim, had given Dean the impression that their partnership wasn’t completely cooperative and probably more ‘needs must’. Blair was so enthusiastic about learning that he reminded the hunter of how Sam used to be before the visions started. Jim, however, was more like their dad. Curt and gruff, but more compassionate than John had been.

He couldn’t contain his sigh of relief, though, when they finally were led to Sam’s room, where the tall man himself was grimacing as the attending tied off the last of the stitches, before turning to leave, barely acknowledging the new arrivals as he responded to a page. When Sam heard them come in and turned his head towards his brother, the nurse had grabbed his chin and turned it back towards where she was applying the covering.

“Not yet, young man,” the matronly woman smiled. Sam returned her motherly smile shyly, but held steady for her to finish up. 

“Sammy, you sly dog. Already got this one wrapped around your finger, huh?” Dean smiled broadly, winking at his brother, making him blush and roll his eyes. The nurse gave an amused chuckle as she applied the last of the dressing to his shoulder, his forearm already wrapped and apparently stitched. She reached to the side to pull a sling off the side table. 

“This is your brother?” the nurse asked Sam, tilting her head slightly to indicate the green-eyed man. Sam’s eyebrows went up seeing the amusement in her eyes and couldn’t help his return chuckle.

“Yeah, he thinks he cute.” Dean gave a bright smile and preened.

“I’m downright adorable. Bite your tongue.” Both Sam and the nurse laughed and shook their heads, Blair joining them. Jim, however, sighed deeply. He could smell the faint whiff of ‘White Diamonds’ perfume the nurse wore, something reminiscent of his own mother. There was also that pervading smell of disinfectant all hospitals used, alongside the tinge of blood from Sam’s wounds that was rapidly being diminished by the stitching and dressing.

“Don’t worry,” the nurse said after securing the sling and making sure it was comfortable for the young man, “If he keeps it up, you let me know and I can request some painful shots known to cure pain-in-the-ass siblings.” Sam startled into a full laugh, his face lighting up, full dimples, as she winked at him, then mock glared at Dean on her way past him. Dean blinked in shock, as did Blair, but Jim smiled broadly, adding this woman to his ‘favorite people’ list. She winked at Jim before turning at the door. “I’m going to get the attending to sign off and get them started on your discharge paperwork. You rest and don’t let any of them push you around, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Barbara,” Sam replied, finally turning his attention to Dean, Blair, and Jim. “They’re incredibly efficient here.” He lifted his shoulder as if none of them knew what he was talking about and winced a little. Dean come over and made a show of looking over the dressing as though making sure the nurse had done it right. 

“Looks good,” he said begrudgingly as Sam stood up straight. Dean sighed internally to realize that his kid brother’s growth hadn’t stopped yet. When he’d picked him up at Stanford not that long ago, they’d been about the same height. Now Sam had at least a few inches on him. If he didn’t stop growing soon, he’d be 6’5” before long. “They inject you with growth juice while they were stitching you up?” Sam huffed at his brother. 

“Dean.” 

“Discharge already?” Jim asked. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to look sternly at the young man. Dean glared at the cop but Sam ducked his head and shrunk down a little. “And where’s Officer Smith? He was supposed to watch you while you were here.” Sam lifted his head slightly with a half smile.

“Um, I kind of told them that it was urgent that I get back to the precinct as I was helping you guys stop a terrorist.” Jim’s eyebrow went up as Dean smiled wide. “And the officer was run off by Barbara to go find me a shirt to wear out of here since my shirts and jacket were damaged and bloody.” He partly shrugged. 

“Wow, is that one of your abilities? Mind control or emotion control or whatever?” Blair asked excitedly, ignoring Jim’s concerned brow. Sam furrowed his own and glanced at his brother.

“Um, no. So far, just the visions. And…uh, the one time with the telekinesis, but so far that’s only worked in a really stressful situation. How much did Dean tell you?” Dean and he shared a look, minute movements passing along a complete conversation without uttering a sound. Blair looked lost as it appeared they were just looking at each other, but Jim could make out the small twitches and nods, if not understand them. “Right, okay, so far as we know, there’s me with visions, Max had telekinesis, Andy and his twin brother, Ansem, have…had…have mind control. Ava has visions too. But Max and Ansem are dead. And we’re all connected somehow. And the guy back at the station-.”

“Greg Walker,” Jim interrupted, making Sam and Dean both look at him, before Sam nodded.

“-Greg, apparently can make his body vibrate to create a sonic boom, I guess.” Sam looked unsure and Dean didn’t have any answers either. 

“So knocking him out stopped what he was doing?” Jim asked, bringing his hand up to rub his chin thoughtfully.

“I think he doesn’t know how to control it,” Sam said, sitting back down on the bed, Dean dropping to the mattress next to him, not leaving his side. “Andy, Ansem, and Max had some measure of control over it, with Ansem using his ability for evil and Max just acting out from the abuse he’d received. Andy only used it for food, sex, or pot-.”

“Wait, what?” Blair asked. He had dropped into the chair across from Sam and was opening his notebook to a new page, pulling his reading glasses over his face. He looked up expectantly at the younger brother. 

“Yeah, this kid had learned to control it but being a nice guy, a stoner, but never once even considered using it for bad stuff like robbing banks or killing people,” Dean said, glancing over at Sam. “He would get creditors to write off his debts, have girls invite him in, or get his dealer to give him a good deal on his pot.”

“Or when he ‘borrowed your car’,” Sam smirked, making the quotation marks with his fingers, gently with this injured arm. Dean gave him his own bitchface.

“That was so not funny,” Dean muttered. Sam’s smile spread all the way again. 

“Not at the time, but it kinda was,” Sam chuckled. Dean grumbled at him and slide away from him on the bed in protest. 

“Anyway,” Dean continued, glaring at his brother, “But Sam and Ava have visions and they have no control over when and where they happen. I don’t about Ava…” He gave a questioning look at Sam who shrugged unhelpfully. “but Sam’s hit him hard. He goes down. And it hurts like a bitch afterwards. You guys saw one. They’re not pretty.”

“And they are never easy things, like lottery numbers or what the answer is on a math quiz,” Sam continued. He took a deep breath and held it. Dean saw him and stepped in to help him out. 

“They’re always about people dying.” Jim felt sympathy for the earnest young man. The older brother may be irritating as shit, but the younger had been given a crap hand and was doing what he could to make the best of it. “And if that’s not bad enough, Sam’s visions are only about stuff involving the other psychics. They are immune to each other’s powers, but we’re still trying to figure out why they’re all connected. And this Greg guy, he’s a walking explosive that Sam temporarily diffused.”

“Temporarily?” Jim asked, leaning against the wall. Him relaxing his posture apparently allowed Sam to relax a little and he uncurled a little. “That’s what you meant by maybe having to kill him.” Both brothers nodded. “Did you guys kill Max and Ansem?” Sam flinched a little, but Dean was shaking his head before the question was fully out of Jim’s mouth. 

“Nah, Max killed himself when Sam tried to talk him out of murdering his step mom and Andy killed Ansem because he realized his twin was evil and had also tried to kill the only girl he really cared about.” Both appeared a bit deflated and a look passed between them that set Jim’s hair on end. Sam’s was sad and pleading, while Dean’s response was concerned and adamant. Something more was there, perhaps about Sam’s own abilities, but Jim let it go for now.

“You’d really kill this guy?” Blair asked, pulling his glasses off to stare at them in concern. Dean’s face went hard as he replied.

“Rabid dogs are put down,” he said softly. “Sam thinks he can talk to the guy and if he can learn to control it and find a way to not kill people or cause damage, then he’s salvageable, like Andy.”

“And Ava?” Jim asked. Sam looked up with sadness.

“After Ava saved my life, she disappeared. We went by to check on her but her fiancé had been murdered by…demons, and she was gone. She was taken, we think.” Dean lifted his hands.

“We don’t know what they wanted with her or if she’s even alive, but it’s been a month or two since then.” Jim nodded.

“You really think you can bring this guy down to earth?” Jim asked. “Because to be honest, if he does that when he gets a little scared or upset, I can’t imagine what he could do if he was downright angry. Today could have been so much worse.” Dean glanced at Sam again, who paled a little.

“Yeah, I know.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming to the end soon. I've finally got the ending planned out.


	8. Nurse Barbara and Dr. Hetfield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam loves Barbara and Dean pulls a fast one.

Jim had given Officer Smith a dressing down for leaving Sam without a police escort, ignoring the snort from Dean when the officer had replied that he had been more afraid of Nurse Barbara than he was of Jim. But he had located and returned with a hospital scrub top that should fit Sam. Dean offered to help him into it but the nurse just nudged him out of the way with a raised eyebrow and efficiently maneuvered the tall man into it without disturbing the dressings. Once the sling was reset and she’d clucked over Sam thoroughly, he gave her a brief one-armed hug. Dean had taken the pain and antibiotics prescriptions, along with the admonishment that if she saw Samuel back in her domain because of the discharge instructions not being followed, she would be holding Dean fully responsible. 

Blair hung back, trying to cover his laughing from the cowed look on Dean’s face. Jim, however, struggled to keep from wanting to disappear around a corner to avoid her overly protective demands for Sam. Officer Smith had slunk away after Jim’s dressing down, leaving the four to their own devices. Once Barbara had sufficiently drilled the medicine and care regimen for Sam into his older brother, she winked at Sam and walked them to the elevator. As the elevator doors closed on her smiling face, there was a collective sigh and chuckle. 

Back in the truck, Dean slid into the front passenger seat, while Sam and Blair climbed into the crew seat behind them. Dean and Jim immediately rolled their eyes as the two academics in the back launched into discussion on the supernatural, psychic abilities, and historical evidence. Jim didn’t miss, however, Dean’s fond glance back over his shoulder at the quiet but rapid-fire discussion between the two. 

“I’m guessing you two fly by the seat of your pants a lot,” Jim commented quietly, eyes on the road. Dean’s head swiveled back around to look at him, then out the passenger window. 

“Not like we get much advanced notice when one of those visions hit,” Dean grumbled. Sam glanced briefly at his brother before returning to his discussion with Blair on Native American tribes and legends of their shaman. “Can’t exactly create an itinerary, ya know?” Jim grunted an acknowledgement.

“Any idea how to handle this one yet?” When Dean turned to look at him, Jim smirked. “Besides knocking him out every time he gets upset?” Dean snorted, then flicked his thumb over his shoulder.

“Sammy thinks he can talk to him and convince him to meditate or something or maybe become a hermit out in the woods where the only thing he can hurt is trees and squirrels.” The back seat was still in a discussion but without any signal, the topic had become less intensive so both could eavesdrop on the front seat. 

“You think it’ll work?” Jim glanced in the rearview mirror, catching the look Sam and Blair exchanged, and he knew exactly what they were doing. It was Dean’s turn to grunt.

“Not really, but I trust Sam and if he says we try this first…,” he glanced over. Jim nodded, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel. 

“You know, knowing what I now know-,” Jim started, with a grimace. Dean snorted.

“You’d rather not take us back to the station, but you can’t erase the charges or the record of the arrest in Cascade. Yeah, we get that a lot.” Dean kept his eyes on the rearview mirror, watching the younger hunter getting to be all academic again, in his element. That protective, wistful look was familiar to Jim, and his hands clenched on the steering wheel as he tried to think of how he could work this with Simon. 

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, okay Sport?” Jim turned his own bitchface onto Jim, making him conceal a smile that threatened.

“Yeah, sure, Daaaaaad,” Dean drawled, leaning his head back for the drive. 

*****

All conversation died out as Jim pulled his truck into the nearly deserted parking lot of the substation. They were there to see what they could do for or would have to do to Greg Walker and the tension was high in all of them. Blair kept darting his eyes around, as though ghosts and vampires would leap at him from thin air. Dean’s face was hard and determined. Sam was nervously running his hands over his hair and taking deep, meditative breaths. Jim noted all of their reactions and sighed. 

“This is Substation G,” he gestured to the small building, barely larger than a convenience store. “This is isolated and rarely manned. There’s a rock quarry not far from here and we’re as far on the outskirts of Cascade as we can get without leaving the city entirely. It’s an overflow substation, built back when people were rioting throughout the west coast. It’s still maintained but up on the auction block to be sold for the city to recoup some funds.”

“I guess it’s lucky for us it hasn’t sold yet,” Dean muttered, staring at the building as though it had personally offended him. Jim smirked.

“I guess it is.” He slid out of the truck and headed for the front entrance, not needing to check to see if they were following as he could hear three sets of feet walking behind him. Dean’s were a steady, if light tread. Sam’s were a loping, soft scuffle. And Blair’s were his familiar, nervous energy patter. He pushed the door open onto the outer room, which was conspicuously empty. There had been only two police cars in the parking lot and the white CDC van that had apparently been called to test the detainee. Jim hurried into the back lockup, seeing the young man still out cold on the cot in the cell and the CDC staff in full hazmat suits doing a variety of tests.

One was doing an air quality test, another was taking the blood of one of the three officers in the station. Another was making notes and bagging articles of clothing.

“Jim,” the officer currently getting his blood drawn said as soon as he spotted the detective. Jim nodded, stopping before they got closer.

“Tom,” Jim said, catching all three of the CDC workers’ glances. “Find anything yet?” The CDC guy who had been doing the air quality tests came closer to them, stopping several feet away.

“We were only told this man,” he said with a thumb jerk towards the cell, “was highly contagious and that it was only transmitted by blood to blood contact.” Jim nodded.

“That’s right.” The CDC doctor sighed with a frown.

“We need to know where that information came from, how they got that information, what the suspected contagion is, and anything else we need to know.” Dean raised a hand to stop Jim from answering and smirked over at the detective. 

“I got this,” he told Jim, reaching into the inner pocket of his canvas jacket. He pulled out a badge declaring him to be from the CDC, from a branch in Kansas. He flashed the badge at the doctor, then slipped into his fully professional personal. “Hi, I’m Dr. James Hetfield, Kansas CDC facilities. We’ve been tracking this young man all the way from South Dakota, where it was discovered that he had the Hep-R in his blood stream.” The real CDC doctor frowned.

“Hep-R? But there is no-,” he said tilting his head.

“We’re not sure how he ended up with it,” Dean barreled right over the doctor’s question, “but we finally located him here in Cascade after he was arrested for vandalism. This detective was working with us to separate the patient from everyone because we suspected that he was very agitated and might accidentally infect others.”

“But there is no-,” the doctor tried again. Dean also pulled out a card from behind the ID and handed it over.

“If you’d like to give my regional office a call, my supervisor can explain it further,” Dean smiled again, rolling right over the doctor. “We know there’s currently no cure for Hep-R so we need to take him back to our facility where we have already started workups. This other young man,” he said, gesturing to Sam behind him, “apparently has natural antibodies to this rare strain so he's the only one who can safely handle the patient. That’s why he’s traveling with me and so that he remains safe until we can get back, where our plans are to use his natural immunity to work up a vaccine so no one else dies.” The doctor glanced over at the tall hunter and scoffed. 

“He’s covered in bandages. Bang up job on keeping him safe, Dr. Hetfield,” he sneered. Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“He’s a stupid college kid. Thinks he freaking invincible. Saved a lot of people today though, so I’ll save the spanking for after he’s healed and helped us develop the vaccine.” Sam rolled his own eyes this time, then caught the looks of awe and amusement on Blair’s and Jim’s faces respectively. “So, unless you guys or these officers got the kid’s blood on them, you are all safe. We’ll take him with us, sedated if we have to.” Dean ended with a solemn smile, making the doctor huff, looking down at the card.

“I need to make a call.” He walked off, glancing back at the group in the hallway before grabbing a phone on the nearest desk and starting to dial.

Dean turned casually to put his back to the other officers and CDC workers. He grimaced and shrugged.

“Dean,” Sam hissed quietly. Dean shushed him.

“Relax, Bobby’ll straighten him out,” He winked at Blair cheekily, as the shorter man mouthed ‘wow’ under his breath.

“Uh huh,” Jim simply said, arms folded over his chest. It was only a moment later that the doctor replaced the phone and came stomping back over to them. He ripped his headpiece off his hazmat suit, glaring at Dean.

“George, Scott,” he growled over his shoulder, making both the other CDC workers look up from what they were doing. “Pack it up. We are not ‘required’ here,” he said with air quotes. He snorted once in Dean’s direction, then turned and helped his co-workers pack up and leave. The other officers appeared confused and Jim let Dean keep up the spiel, telling them that unless they got the blood on them, they were safe, watching them all sigh in relief. 

“Wanna get them to clear out before Sleeping Atom Bomb wakes up so Sammy can work his Disney magic?” Jim sighed at Dean’s near command and turned to work on convincing the three officers to wait outside ‘just to be safe.’

Dean brushed off his shoulder and shot a smug look at his brother, causing Sam to shake his head and chuckle.


	9. Skills, Man.

“And…and there’s no way to turn it off?” The young man in the cell wrung his hands as he looked imploringly around at the rest of them. Sam, who was sitting on the cot next to him, shook his head. 

“Not that we’ve found, and we’ve been looking.” Sam’s puppy dog eyes were in full force, making Jim see just how well they worked together. With Dean’s street smarts and unwavering confidence and Sam’s book smarts and ability to emotionally connect with people, they made a great team, playing off of or against each other, as the situation called for it. Being so young, they could only truly be brothers to be so in sync. The younger brother had insisted on going inside the cell with Greg, stating he knew how scared his own visions made him, that maybe connecting with him like that, it would make the guy less likely to freak out and do something he didn’t mean to do.

“It’s easy for you to sit here and tell me there’s ‘another way’ when you get freaking visions that don’t kill someone if you get stressed or upset, but what am I supposed to do?” Sam felt Greg tense next to him and then the vibrations started slowly building. He held up a hand to keep Jim and Dean from barging through the cell door to yank him out, and without even looking up he knew that was exactly what both of them were about to do.

“Greg, Greg, listen to me,” Sam said soothingly. “You’re right, I have no idea what you’re supposed to do but we want to help you.” Greg ran a shaky hand through his hair as Dean, Jim, and Blair grimaced at the sonic frequency that was drilling slowly into them. Sam shifted slightly. “Maybe it doesn’t kill you and maybe the others like us, like me, aren’t directly affected, but if you bring a building down on yourself, on me, it could kill us all. Have you ever tried meditation? Maybe we can find one of our contacts who can get you on an anti-anxiety med or something to help.” The vibrations began to die down a little.

“Well, I was on anti-anxiety meds up until a few months ago,” he said slowly, relaxing a little, glancing over at the hunched over hunter. “When I was on the meds, anything that upset me seemed to just make small vibrations, like minor earthquake aftershocks. The first time I ran out and had a panic attack was right before that shockwave hit the city park and leveled the trees. Doctors had said I wasn’t affected because I was in the eye of the storm or whatever, but I knew.” Sam nodded and smiled encouragingly. “You really think I could control this? Maybe go find some quiet, out of the way place to go back to school online or something? Because I really don’t think I want to be around people anymore, man.” 

“Nah, man,” Dean spoke up from just outside the cell doorframe. “We got an old buddy named Bobby. He and Pastor Jim will be able to help hook you up with some hunter-friendly docs and get you the meds. They can find you that little out of the way place too. Can’t help you with girls, though. That’s all on you.” He smirked, shrugging, as Sam turned a bitchface onto him, Blair and Jim giving him strange looks. Greg, however, chuckled.

“Yeah, not needing help in that department.” He stopped wringing his hands and just rubbed his knuckles thoughtfully. “You guys would really help me?” Sam smiled got a little wider as he nodded. 

“Let me get Bobby on the line and get someone to head this way to pick you up.” He smiled at Greg, then glanced at Sam in concern. “You good, Sammy?” Once Sam nodded at him, he gestured with a finger and turned to talk privately on his phone. 

“Greg?” Blair said, still glancing in awe between him and Sam, “How are you feeling?” The young man sighed, deflating, loosening the last of the tension from his body. He shrugged.

“I…I guess I’m okay,” he said, watching Jim’s stoicism with some light nervousness. He glanced at Sam and a half smile tugged at one side of his mouth. “Been a long, long time since someone actually seemed to understand me and really wanted to help me.”

“I’ve been lucky,” Sam snorted. “I had Dean. Most of the other kids…people like us,” he gestured between himself and Greg, “have grown up without help, without someone one their side. And they haven’t ended up well. It still won’t be easy, but we want to help you. We’ll make sure you have the support system like a lot of people like us haven’t had.” 

“This means you need to keep your nose clean,” Dean chimed in as the came back into the cell area, closing his flip phone. He smiled at Sam. “Pastor Jim and Caleb are heading this way. They’ll be here tomorrow for Greg.” He smiled at the other guy. “Be glad it’s them and not Bobby. He’s a little crotchety in his old age and personally, I think it’s best he’s not going to be barking at you before we get you stabilized.” 

“So, how does this work?” Jim turned to ask the older hunter, his face amused. “We just hand over this kid to some guys you claim are part of your mysterious network. And then you guys disappear-“

“I ain’t leavin’ without my car,” Dean interrupted, causing Jim to huff. 

“along with a car filled with explosives and ordinance. And I have to explain to the mayor, the CDC, and my chief how I let three mysterious men walk into my precinct, convince us to break all our protocols, and then escape after using fake credentials? Am I getting this right?” 

Dean shrugged as Sam stood up and ambled over to stand beside him. He kept his shoulders hunched over and head down for the most part. 

“Detective,” Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. “We really weren’t trying to bring all this down on you guys. That’s what you heard when you caught us. We didn’t expect to run into a legendary sentinel in the middle of…all this.” 

“Like we were expecting ghost hunters and psychics to show up right in front of the police precinct,” Blair chuckled, blue eyes sparkling. He slapped the back of his hand against Jim’s abs as he turned his eyes up to meet his gaze. “Right, Jim?” Jim just raised an eyebrow and then shook his head. 

“Chief, I’ve learned that every day is something new since I met you,” he huffed. Dean barked a laugh, then grunted as Sam mirrored Blair’s ab backslap on his brother. 

“Listen, you might not believe this,” Sam implored Jim. “but Dean and I are pretty good at getting out of situations we don’t want to be in. When you arrested us, we had to let that happen so we could get more information and stop the explosion.” Jim quirked an eyebrow at the taller hunter.

“So, you’re just that good? That you ‘let us’ take you into custody?” He used air quotes as he glared at Sam, who curled further into himself as he stepped back, letting Dean step in front of him. 

“Jim, let’s discuss this man to man.” This caused Blair to snort and Jim’s other eyebrow to join the first at his receding hairline. He gestured for Dean to continue. “You’re a superhero, dude. You have a city to protect and your sidekick here guides you and provides comic relief.” Blair opened his mouth to protest, but Jim smirked and held up a finger to stop him. “Both Sam and I are superheroes, sort of. We protect, like, the US, at least. Sam’s probably more of hero than me, because honestly, I may be stronger, but he’s got the whole bleeding heart, super brain thing going on.” Dean held up a finger to Sam as he began to protest, stopping him as well.

By now, Greg was grinning in amazement at the two teams as the tallest and shortest of them all were dismissed to the sidelines and the alpha males were squaring off in more a battle of wills than a physical altercation. 

“Granted, Chief is more than a sidekick-“

“Thank you, Jim.” 

“-but I get your meaning.” Jim uncrossed the arms over his chest and shook his head. “But Simon is going to get another ulcer before this is all over with.” Sam coughed, drawing their attention.

“Um, I can probably help with some distractions enough to keep this from being a disaster on your end,” he said, rubbing the bandages on his arm lightly with his other hand. Jim tilted his head and Blair smiled brightly. 

“What? You don’t trust us?” Dean beamed a smile that made Jim grunt.

*****

“Okay, thanks Bobby,” Sam said as he hung up the phone and flipped it closed in his lap. Dean glanced over from the driver’s seat of the Impala and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Greg get there okay?” Sam glanced over at him and grimaced.

“Small incident outside Blue Earth when Caleb got rear-ended, but Pastor Jim was able to calm him down enough to get to their doctor buddy and get his prescription filled. He’s doing okay, he said.” Sam played with the phone for a minute before dropping it into the front pocket of his flannel shirt. Then he reached over to scratch at the edge of the bandages on his shoulder. Dean slapped at the free hand.

“Stop that. It needs to heal.”

“Yeah, Dean, but it’s itchy.” Sam nearly whined. Dean laughed and shook his head. 

“So, what did you do for Hippie Boy and the Sensational Sentinel?” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Planted a few fake news articles about your ‘Hep-R’ virus, then wrote retractions so it’d look like the CDC had thought it was serious, but they’d been duped by some falsified data.” Dean smiled and nodded. “And I edited the lab results for the gun powder and explosives after you swiped those samples.” He side-eyed his brother. “And really, don’t expect to get that lady in the lab into bed if we ever end up there. Blair said she’s all kinds of crazy.” 

“Yeah, but she’s hot crazy,” Dean smirked, licking his lips. Sam grimaced at him.

“No, Dean. Anyway, Jim’s report showed that the guys they had taken into custody were really just grifters who had stolen random IDs and come across as Sam and Dean Winchester, so us getting away, with the car, mind you, was much less a hit on the police chief’s ego.”

“Hmm,” Dean hummed thoughtfully. There was silence for a while except for the Bob Segar that played softly. Finally, Dean shook his head and tapped his thumb on the steering wheel. “Damnedest thing, Sammy.”

“Hmm?” Sam asked, looking up from the newspaper he had pulled from the backseat and was opening up. He glanced over at his brother in concern.

“We’ve met psychics like Missouri, like you.” He paused, then continued as Sam quietly watched him from the passenger seat. “But with this sentinel and guide thing…Do you think there are more of them out there?” Sam’s eyebrows rose up as the looked out the front windshield, caught in his own thoughts.

“Blair says there are recorded cases of people who have two or three senses, but Jim is the first he’s come across with all five senses heightened. Maybe he’s the first of a new breed. Maybe he’s an anomaly. But there are more like him, let’s just hope they’re on our side if we ever meet up with any more of them.” 

“Hmmm,” Dean hummed in response, before leaning forward to turn the cassette deck volume up. 


End file.
